"You no longer belong to yourself," the priest continued, more warmly; "your head and your arm are claimed by your country. Be a man, however great the sorrow that awaits you; draw yourself up, and become strong for the coming contest. Every man in the world has his cup which he drains to the dregs. Go, my friend, go where duty calls you; tomorrow you can think of yourself, but today belongs to your country." The hacendero, overpowered by this manly appeal, rose mechanically, pulled his hat over his eyes, and went off without uttering a word. The priest looked after him, tenderly. "Oh!" he muttered, "How that man of iron must suffer to be thus crushed!" Then he turned to the count. "Señor Conde," he added, laughingly, "you are my prisoner for four and twenty hours." "I shall not leave you till the business for which I have come is ended," the count replied with a polite bow. "Hilloh, my worthy lad," the priest continued, addressing Diego López, who throughout the interview had remained motionless in his corner, with his eyes constantly fixed on the prisoner, "my provost marshal will save you the trouble of guarding that man." "That will be a great relief for me, Excellency." "Good. Go and tell him to come here immediately. The prisoner is securely bound, I presume?" "Señor Clary himself made the knot, Excellency." "In that case, my mind is at rest. Go." "The more so, because I undertake to watch the villain in the meanwhile," Oliver said, as he cocked a pistol. "Good," Diego López remarked, and went out. "Are your horses fit for a long ride, caballeros?" "Well, hardly," the Canadian answered. "Very well; you will choose among mine. Colonel Clary, your regiment, which you will find complete, is on escort tonight." "Are we going away?" the count asked. "This very instant." The Mexican general clapped his hands, and an officer came in. "Order your men to mount noiselessly, Captain. Are the horses shod with felt, as I ordered?" "Yes, Excellency." "Good; we shall start in ten minutes. You can go." "Are we bound on an expedition?" the Canadian asked. "Yes," the general replied, laconically. "¡Caray!" the hunter exclaimed, as he rubbed his hands merrily, "That is what I call being in luck's way, arriving just in time for an expedition." "Which will probably be serious," the general resumed. "All the better; there will be something to gain in that case." At this moment the provost marshal appeared at the door of the jacal, accompanied by a dozen soldiers. "Caballero," the general said to him, "I confide this prisoner to you, for whom I hold you responsible. Do you understand?" "Perfectly, General," the provost answered respectfully. "Come, my men, seize the fellow."